I Am Scared
by Xeen Cyr
Summary: In the wake of Jacksonville. Totally A/U. Peter & Olivia. CHAPTER 10 IS UP!
1. Confession

**FRINGE**

**CONFESSION**

No inFRiNGEment intended.

Note: WHAT LIES BELOW filler

-o-

There never was any debrief for Walter. That was a total waste of his time and ours. When his work was done, he was ready to embark for the next adventure. I envied him at some point, not the being lost or not taken seriously and getting arrested part, that I could do without, but I was jealous of the fact that he didn't abide by the rules whilst I lived by them. But today, with Peter's possible death in a near foreseeable future, the strain must have been too severe. When he was every single time like a rubber band, the perfect contrary to a shape memory alloy, today, he was unable to return to his normal quirky self.

I watched him gave Peter an adoring look before his face turned to stone, hard lines drawn on his forehead. And I knew with acute certainty that something was off. I was used to his eccentric persona, I could tell without the absence of a doubt that something was indeed very wrong. He should have been dancing, his mind delirious with exotic recipes and potential stops at every coffee shop on his way back to his apartment. Maybe Astrid knew something I didn't. I wouldn't be the first time, they spend so much time together, and Peter. Another thing to be jealous of. I shoved the uncomfortable idea in the back of my head and gave Astrid my best quizzical look. She acknowledged my question and nodded briefly. Yes, she was definitely after something. But now wasn't the time to be chasing ghosts. Later. There'll be time later for that, eventually.

Walter patted Peter's hand, love and guilt exuding from every pore but his son was too weak for the embrace the doctor was craving. He opened his mouth but said nothing, inhaling deeply, another deep crease forming on his face. Then he turned around abruptly and left. Peter was too out of it, still dazed with the potent narcotic we managed to get into the building's ventilation system. I was still a bit fogged too.

Astrid watched him leave, and I could sense she was hesitating. I couldn't help it, and my lips twitched, fighting a smile. It was unlike her to have second thoughts about adopting the right course of action. My understanding of her hesitation was crystal clear. She wanted to stay and make sure that Peter was okay, that we were okay, but she wouldn't leave Walter. She finally shrugged and went to the door in Walter's wake. She seemed so fragile and tiny. She made a quick motion of the hand and nodded seriously. "I'll take care of him", she mouthed silently in my direction, her huge doe eyes intent. It was obvious she was expecting me to do the same for the other Bishop. "I know", I whispered back.

Peter might have dozed off because he winced when Walter rushed out. His hazy eyes followed our silent exchange, he seemed to have no idea what was going on and he looked like he was two hundred years old.

The door bounced back behind her. The sound of grated metal and plastic hissed in my head and I resisted the urge to let go, to just sit right there on the ground and rock myself back and forth to oblivion. I wish I were still a little girl, and that it would only seem normal.

I came closer to his gurney instead, doing my best to be unreadable and poised. I didn't need to see myself in a mirror to feel that I was failing in every possible way. I was everything but composed and cryptic. My face was burning, my cheeks were probably beet red, as far as I could tell from the heat radiating to my ears. I bit my lip and took a deep breath.

I knew he was safe with the medics. Letting him rest would be wise, but I was so upset he had used his exceptional brains to deceive me. Deceit. That was a small price to pay for him being alive after all. I should have known that his intelligence would work both ways, with us or against. I was angry at myself for giving him the opportunity to take my gun, I was trained to react to this. But it was Peter, what could I do? He knew that I couldn't harm him. At least I hoped he did know at the time because it was so fast and with my mind racing through unthinkable options, I knew I couldn't risk to kill him.

There was so much I wanted to tell him. Why couldn't he meet me half way? I was not even sure what to do or say to begin with. Maybe it was too late and I'd missed the moment when I could be honest and confess that I was falling for him. That I had been for quite some time now but doing my best to deny it even to myself.

And unless I was prepared to regret what I was about to say, I'd better go. But for some reason, I wasn't ready to go. Broyles was probably still hovering at the scene, pissing every suit from the CDC till they yield. He wouldn't accept anything less that total surrender. Tonight was not a night for taking prisoners.

I chuckled silently at the thought but I might have placed my hand on his cover and the jolt startled him. He opened his eyes and searched mine but he couldn't focus.

"Livia, I'm so s…"

"Shh…"

"Did… did I hurt you?"

"Nope. Bruises that's all. I'll survive." But he was not amused. "Seriously," I added urgently, "I'm fine. You should rest."

"Even if I don't want to, I'm too stoned to walk away right now," he croaked. He closed his eyes. The eyelids were still reddish and swollen. "What was that you used? Fentanyl? God I hate opioids. I'm gonna be out for the next 24 hours."

His voice was so low that I could barely hear what he was thinking out loud. He exhaled and tried to sit down.

"No, you don't." I pushed him back to the bed with a firm hand. "You look like hell."

"Thanks, it feels like hell," he rasped.

I moved forward, my legs almost touching the railing of the gurney. I leant over the bed to put the blanket back on his bare shoulders. His breathing was easier and even. He was asleep. I reached out to his face but stopped my hand before it touched his jaw. I wouldn't allow it. I wouldn't be weak, not now. I stepped back, tucked a lock of hair behind my left ear, with my eyes riveted to the ground.

Now that he was unconscious and that there was only the two of us in the tent, it was hard to be so close and not touch him. Now that I was sure that he was safe, that he will be okay. My head dropped to my chest and I pirouetted on the ball of my feet, eager for an easy escape. I stopped dead in my tracks.

"I was scared," I whispered, facing the door. "And I should have told you."

I turned around to see his face. But he was really asleep. Something inside me was expecting that he heard me, was expecting an answer. I walked slowly back to the gurney.

"I never even thought of calling Rach. But I should have told you. You're my partner. I should have told you."

Who was I kidding? My partner? I was so close that I could sense his heat radiating against my leg. I watched a tear drop on the grey blanket, and a dark circular spot formed instantly. I didn't move, watching more damp patches expand while I couldn't stop the steady flow coming from my eyes. I touched his hand through the cover, tracing circles with my finger.

"I was scared you were going to die… And then I was scared that I couldn't shoot you. It was unprofessional of me. Even with the virus, you were able to devise an escape strategy. But my mind stopped working as soon as you put that gun in my hands. I couldn't fight against you, I couldn't shoot you… I was scared of losing you," I added in a whisper.

"Dunham!"

The deep voice brought me back to reality. I moved my hand away from his and swiftly wiped my eyes, catching inadvertently a glimpse of Peter's face. His eyes were locked on my face and he was smiling quietly. My heart fluttered.

"Yes sir."

"I need you to liaise with the CDC."

Broyles' voice was soft and understanding. I followed him outside without a look behind me.


	2. Blurred

**FRINGE**

**BLURRED**

No inFRiNGEment intended.

Note: JACKSONVILLE filler

-o-

So much for letting my feelings take the best part of me.

I am only lying to myself, I had allowed myself to be scared of this... and… and, I enjoyed being scared, it was delicious, it made me feel alive. I am pathetic. I can't even say the word in my head. Date, date, date, DATE!

And I'm the one supposed to help with the worlds are colliding situation. What does it say about me?

I step away from Walter quietly, it's hard to take my eyes off his pleading face, so I choose to turn my back to him and walk away. I can feel a raging turmoil building inside my chest. First thing first, calm down, put back on my everyday mask. My stomach hurts, my head is spinning, and it feels like my heart is about to leap out my chest.

Peter is coming back. I hear him put his coat, I can imagine him patting his father's shoulder with filial concern. They had made so much progress, god they were so close to being a family. They are going to be torn apart, again.

If… When Peter finds out, all hell will break loose, there'll be no turning back. I freeze. Neither of them will ever recover. I won't recover. And I thought that dealing with John's death was hard, but it was nothing like what I am experiencing right this moment, the loss, the betrayal, the regrets. I can't breathe. _Regrets? What regrets? It doesn't change anything, does it? He's the only Peter you've ever met, nothing can change that, no matter what. And you persistently pushed him away, to stay in safe territory._

My mind starts to browse through rational options. Will Peter stay with us and help us catch "the bad guys" when he knew? Or will he try to go over there and help them? More importantly, are we the "good guys"? With Walter and his gloomy past on our side, I seriously doubt it. I can't possibly imagine that Peter would turn his back on us, but I can't imagine that he's from another dimension either.

I can't tell him anything and yet he'll blame me eventually for keeping my mouth shut. And if I do tell him, he'll blame me for my betraying him and he will run away as fast as he can. Either way, I was screwed. There was no other alternative.

"Astrid will be here any minute Walter. Just get the Monopoly board ready…"

He walks out the door.

So, that's it? I'm on a date? Really? What was the big fuss compared to this…

And of course I am, in my mind it was a real date, I changed my hair, dolled up, did the mirror thing. It had been a long time since my last date and it scares me. And because of my weakness, there's no turning back. I have still to decide if my seeing Peter in a whole new way is a by-product of the latest current events or a glimpse into the future. How am I supposed to handle that now that I saw what I saw? I bit my lip and taste blood in my mouth.

"… and don't wait up for me."

He sounds happy. And we're going to crash his world. Even if it isn't my secret to tell, I have to find a way to make Walter talk to him.

And suddenly it hits me. The truth about Peter's medical history. Walter tried to tell me that day. But I didn't follow up the lead. I had absolutely no hunch of anything out of the ordinary at the time, I was too focused on the aging baby and John being out of the picture. His worried face should have alerted me.

Maybe if Walter is set to being honest now, Peter would find a way to forgive him. He won't forgive me though. He'll probably think WE set him up from the very beginning. Or he'll take it out on both of us.

But right now, right this minute, I'm going on a date with Peter Bishop. Two very loud elephants will be in the same room with us, my innocent crush and Peter's unspeakable origin. To think of it, there'll be a third colourful elephant joining the herd, THE kiss, the kiss that didn't happen, the kiss that almost happened, the kiss that was not as much as the promise of a kiss. Probably it was simply fear transcending our boundaries and no more than a comfort kiss.

"Don't worry son, it'll be all right," Walter says. His voice was low but he knows I'm listening. It's meant for me. "Everything is going to be fine," he says again.

That is not wishful thinking, I can sense urgency in his voice. That's it, I'm going to lose it. I realise that I haven't been so angry in a very long time. I refrain from turning back and confront him. I know that should I look back, I'd be tempted to. I stick my hands in my leather jacket instead and stubbornly look down. I must process the whole thing first. I need more time and I'm not even sure I can deal with it, --ever.

The air is colder and I see every detail with crisp accuracy.

My ears and my jaws are hurting.

The slamming of the front door. Peter's eager footsteps approaching. He touches my elbow lightly, his head poking in my direction but I manage to stay hidden behind my hair. I am completely, totally unable to pluck up enough courage to even take a peek at his face.

"This way, it's around the corner really," he explains.

I spot Walter's shadow behind the shades. During the past year and a half, I had pictured Peter disappearing one day, and I was prepared to accept it. But this one, I never saw it coming. I clench my fist inside my pockets. It is so unfair. Angry tears are welling up.

"But if you prefer, we can take your car."

"Walking is okay," I nod. My voice was clear, normal. Except that I can't look at him, I don't want to see him shimmer, it's weird.

"You sure you want to do this?"

"Sorry?"

"I mean, you seem tired."

"I am. But going out is good, right? That's what people do."

I don't know why, but he chuckles in the dark and I can't help turning my head in his direction. I gasp and shut my eyes before I can see his face. And the next thing I know, I stumble on something and I'm in his arms. His hand shoots to my face and cups my cheek. My eyes open wide and I stop breathing.

No glimmer, no blur, no sparkle, no nothing, just plain Peter Bishop. If anything is plain about him.

"Hey, are you ahead of me Livia? I had no idea that you had your private stash at Massive Dynamic!"

I try to keep my voice as even as possible. "I haven't but that's a thought."

"That's my girl."

I tense and he lets go of me immediately. _God, take a grip of yourself Dunham_!

"I'm good," I smile tentatively, "I just tripped." I chew on my lip, but it's my normal M.O., and I was fairly certain that he wouldn't notice anything different in my body language. For good measure, I look down, rock a little on the ball of my feet and tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Shall we? I could seriously use a drink."

Is it fate laughing at me, the restaurant he picked is a perfect place for a first date. Just the right size, the right light, the right atmosphere. I have the feeling that I'll never stop wiggling on my chair. I take another sip of Chardonnay and try to figure out the menu. The waitress keeps hovering in the vicinity of our table and Peter's gaze becomes more and more concerned. I finally shrug.

"I can't choose, I'll have what you're having."

If he's fazed by my attitude, he doesn't show. I can only hope he doesn't order something I wouldn't bear to touch, like foie gras or sole normande. The waitress gone, his green eyes bore into mine.

"Long day, huh…"

"I guess." I tug at a loose thread of the napkin. Silence. "We were lucky." I finally manage to say.

He smiles and I watch his hand closing on mine over the table cloth. _Think fast Olivia_. I almost jump from my chair and retrieve my phone from my pocket. "Sorry, I probably should take that,' I lie, leaving the table. I press the phone to my ear and leave the restaurant, looking busy and self-absorbed. Pacing on the sidewalk, with the stupid phone still to my ear, I make a quick assessment of the situation. I turn my back to the windows and fumble through the index. I hit the speed dial.

"Bishop's residence."

"Walter, we have to tell him, you have to tell him."

"Agent Dunham! Astrid, it's Olivia. Are you having a good time agent Dunham?"

"Walter I understand you can't say anything…"

"I'm afraid I already said too much," he confesses in a low voice.

"You never told me anything."

"Yes I did. But not to you…"

"Who else knows?" I have a pretty good idea, Bell for one, and probably Nina Sharp, they worked together at some point. And the dead assistant… Did Bell kill her to keep her out of the way? Did she threaten them? Bell probably managed to expunge the records of any clue pertaining to Peter's origin.

"She knows. Asteroid."

I hear Astrid chuckling in the background.

"Walter, you're not making any sense. Why Astrid?"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he chirps, "Agent Dunham you must know that I already bought Boardwalk and Park Place and…"

"You've got to tell him. As soon as possible, do you hear me?"

"Of course agent Dunham I'm planning to win, it's a tactical game."

"When?"

"I don't know."

I hesitate. "Do I have your word?"

"Always," he breathes before hanging up on me.

I have absolutely no recollection whatsoever of the diner. I simply sat there, enjoyed the meal, made small talk, smiled and laughed when he was funny and he was, because he was uncomfortable. I left him before the restaurant with the promise he'll take my car to the lab the next morning. He looked puzzled but didn't try anything. I mean, he didn't argue or kiss me or hug me or whatever.

I took a cab home.

I'm so tired.

I didn't even have time to let myself in that my phone was ringing. Did Walter tell him already? If he comes over, I don't know what…

"Hello?"

I throw my keys and my jacket on the couch and put a hand on my forehead.

"Liv? You're back? I called you like a million times!"

"Rach? Sorry, I must have turned my cell off."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm good, yes, good."

"Liv what's going on?"

"Nothing, I was just eating out with a friend."

"Who is he? Please tell me it's Peter, you're so made for each other." I do not want to have that conversation, not now. "It was Peter, please say yes." She's so stubborn. "I'm sure I'm right. Spell it out sis, I want to know all the gory details."

I manage to sit down, put my feet on the coffee table and take a deep breath. "Yes."

"Yes? I knew it!"

God, I wish she could be here tonight. "I'm really exhausted Rach, but I promise I'll call you back, soon. I'll tell you everything. That's not much."

"What do you mean? You two didn't…"

"Night, Rach."

I close my eyes. The phone jolts me awake. The sun is up and my head hurts.

"Agent Dunham," says Astrid, "I think you should come to the lab. Immediately."


	3. Flight

**FRINGE**

**FLIGHT**

No inFRiNGEment intended.

Note: JACKSONVILLE filler

-o-

I pause before the lab door, my eyes lingering on the half-erased tags on the glass. I brace myself against what will come next and walk inside, with my poker face on. I feel like a witness and though my world is about to collapse right in front of my eyes, there'll be nothing I can do to prevent it.

"Agent Dunham!"

"What's going on Astrid?" I give a circular glance around but nothing seems to stand out. It merely looks like any other day at the lab. Disturbing.

Walter is doing whatever he is always doing, mixing things and heating a large bowl of coffee on a Bunsen burner. I turn back to Astrid, puzzled. From her distraught voice over the phone, I thought that the Bishops finally opened Pandora's box last night and that the only thing for me to do would be to pick up the pieces.

"I stayed at the Bishops last night," she states in a low voice, her back to Walter. He's muttering indistinct words and seems busy at his table.

"Okay." I have a bad feeling about that. I pour myself some coffee and heads to my office with Astrid in my wake.

She closes the door behind her before talking again. Even then she can't seem to help from looking through the venetian blinds. "Walter was in one of his mood yesterday when I got there."

Well, I had a pretty good idea why. He probably thought I was going to rat him out.

"After you called him, he calmed down and we played until I couldn't keep my eyes open."

That was odd. He never pictured Astrid as an "early-bedder". Maybe it had been a long day for her too. I didn't have the chance to really interact with her these last couple of days. Cutting into mashed up people from the collided worlds might have been the last straw. Even when you're prepared, such horrific events tend to take their toll eventually. Not to mention that Walter was a handful and that she probably didn't have no more private life than the rest of us to begin with.

"Peter came back long after we went to bed."

Really? It was still early when I left him. He probably went alone for another drink. Or more. I did rain on his parade the night before. I press my lips on the rim of my mug. Did he venture to my place after that? I know that's what he does sometimes. Quite the night vigilante. I found it funny to think as Peter being my personal bodyguard. Now I regret that I never asked him in though I knew all along he was there keeping watch in front of my building.

"I heard them arguing, and I figured it was not my place to interfere."

Did Walter wait up for Peter to come back and decided to spill the beans?

"After a while, the house went quiet and I heard Peter go up to his room. I guess I might have dozed off at some point. I woke up when he slammed his door. And then, there were noises of heavy things being dragged on the floor."

She stopped talking, guilt written on her face. I waited a painful fifteen seconds. "And that's it?" I ask cautiously. Somehow I'm relieved. I'd like to have the chance to talk to Walter before he reveals anything big to Peter. Devise a strategy or something. "Where is he now? Where is Peter?"

She swallows and her face brightens. "He was not up when I fixed breakfast. But Walter was acting weird. I mean weirder than his usual. And I heard them arguing last night. Something's wrong."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I must talk to Walter but I don't want Astrid to be in the way. I should send her on some useless errand to give us some privacy. Not a course of action I'm proud of but a necessary course.

"Even though Peter was not at the house this morning, he's fixing him something now. He says that it's his favourite food in the whole world and that he will be hungry when he comes back."

"Comes back?"

She shrugs. "I know, it doesn't make sense. The family wagon is parked in front of their house. I drove Walter over here myself. And Peter's keys were on the coffee table."

"His coat?"

"On the couch."

Where is he? Just fast asleep and sobering up at a friend's house or gone for good. I put my nothing to be alarmed mask on. "What's his favourite food?"

"Pancakes. It was the third batter when you got here. He says he can't remember the recipe right. He used two dozen eggs and a gallon of milk already. It's all going to waste if you ask me."

I don't. But now that she's pointed me in the right direction, I can smell brown butter coming from the lab. "You sure something is going on?"

She nods, genuinely concerned.

"I don't know, I guess that I should have talked to you about that, but…"

She looks distressed. I nod and gesture her to go ahead.

"Well, it's most likely nothing…"

She understands from my reaction that she's better say it.

"It's about something Walter old me a couple of weeks ago." She stops again. I hold my breath. "He said, and I quote "I can't let Peter die again". Do you think he's getting psychotic again agent Dunham?"

I don't have that kind of answer. I press the speed dial and put the cell to my ear. Pick up, pick up, pick up. But my call goes directly to his voice mail. Peter is expected to answer his calls. We're on call 24/7.

"Maybe there's no signal. Or he's still drunk." She nods frantically.

I do my best to appear poised and relaxed. "I'll call him later. Take care of Walter and try to calm him down. I'm sure it's going to be fine." I hope that my poker face still stands. I can't bet that nothing is going to be fine from now on. "I'll be in my office at the Bureau all day if you need me."

She nods again, obediently this time.

"You can handle Walter right?"

"Absolutely!" She jumps from the chair and smiles.

"If you hear from Peter before I do, keep me updated." I'm glad I didn't blurt out something like call me immediately.

I peek through the blinds. Walter is out of my sight. I don't want to see him this morning. I still have to adjust. And I want to find Peter first. Deep down I know I'm only kidding myself. He almost certainly took off already. I shove a few manila folders in a bag and leave the lab. I drive to the Bishops and pull over one block away from the house. Asking Astrid for her spare key would alert her. My personal burglar kit isn't standard FBI material but those tools prove to be quite handy. I circle the house, looking through the windows. No movement. I pick the lock before someone calls the police and get in. Astrid is right. His keys are on the coffee table, his leather jacket hangs on an antique hatrack near the door and his peacoat is on the couch. I go for a quick sweep of the floor and hesitate at the bottom of the stairs before taking the stairs four at a time. I go directly to his room and rush inside without slowing down.

Everything is upside down and it's difficult to say if someone actually slept in here last night. I sit on the bed and try to call him again. But this time, no one picks up and my call doesn't go to his voice mail. Is he monitoring his calls?

I've been once or twice in their house, not enough to notice what's missing.

To put my mind at rest, I inspect the rest of the floor before heading to my office downtown. Peter disappearing without leaving even a note is hard to process and working in my familiar environment doesn't make it any easier. I miss Charlie.

Fortunately, Broyles is in DC for some meeting, it gives me enough time to put things back to normal. Or at least try. My mind is in overdrive. I go through stacks of old files, and the day drags on. I check with Astrid every two hours but there's nothing new on her front either.

When I pull over before my building it's way past 23:00 hours, I'm so worn out that I can barely move. With a sigh, I climb the stairs. My hand is heavy on the railing. I slam the front door, get rid of my things haphazardly on my way to my room, toss my shoes in the doorway. I'll call him one last time and then try to get some sleep. Yawning, I hold out my hand to the switch.

"Don't," says a voice in the dark.


	4. Fight

**FRINGE**

**FIGHT**

No inFRiNGEment intended.

Note: JACKSONVILLE filler

-o-

"Don't… Please." I spot Peter on the armchair near the bedside table, his feet up on the bed, his arms folded on his chest. "My head is killing me."

I stop dead in my tracks. Relief rushes in my stomach. I lean against the doorway before my legs give way. Still, I can't read his face in the dark but I don't need to be psychic to see that he's not well.

"I promise I'll replenish your liquor cabinet," he slurs.

"It's okay."

"According to Walter, it's not," he snaps. His tone is subdued and he sounds exhausted. "He's on a mission."

Walter confronted him about his drinking habits last night? Probably not. "A mission?" I ask with the dreadful feeling I may only sound polite.

"Yeah. Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?" He pauses.

I don't want to answer that one. I can't.

"You might safely say that Walter and I had a little argument last night," he sweetly growls.

Only, nothing's safe now. I realise that I stopped breathing and feel light headed. "So I've heard. Is it all right if…" I step back and reach out to the reading lamp by the couch in the living room. He acquiesces briefly and I switch it on.

"Astrid?" he asks raising a hand before his eyes.

I simply nod.

"Mmm… I tend to forget that you're all super cops," he says matter-of-factly, the opposite of usual derisive self.

"Hey, you make it sound so sexy." What I am doing? I'm not supposed to flirt with the guy. But he doesn't react. Instead he exhales loudly.

"See, I must confess that I didn't go straight back home after our… diner." He pauses again and puts his hand back on his lap.

There's a hard edge in his voice that I'm not used to. I try to recall our time at the restaurant. It was weird, but was it that weird? Yes, it probably was. I barely could look at him. What if he's mad at me? That's the last thing I want. "I figured that much," I finally say with caution.

"Would you come closer?" There's urgency in his plea. He squints and makes a face. "I can't see you against the light."

Resisting my first impulse to dash to him and hold him, I walk in self-consciously and sit at the foot of the bed, my hand resting on my lap. "Better?"

"It will have to do." Definitely mad. "Walter despite my request waited up for me. He wanted to know if my seducing techniques were up to par."

I try to laugh and almost choke.

"My thoughts exactly. So I told him again it was not a date but merely a diner and two friends having a good time over a few drinks."

He can't see me in the dim light of the bedroom but still I can't look him in the eyes. "Exactly." My breathing is strained.

"So he became very agitated. He said that too much drinking when romancing the object of your affection is a recipe for disaster. He blamed me for being a disappointment and a drunk. He literally pulled out of his hat his list of conquests, something I wasn't quite ready to hear if you ask me even in my inebriated state of mind."

Walter promised he would talk to Peter and that's what he came up with? I was appalled.

"When I tried to stop him he began rambling about me tarnishing our family name with my inability to score." Peter stands up abruptly and leans toward me. I recoil instinctively. He smells of Cologne and booze. "To score? He has some nerves! Maybe I overreacted and used words I knew I would regret once I sober up. So I told him we kissed."

"You did?"

"Yeah, I know, technically we didn't and I never should have told him that we did but I was really drunk. And I was planning to tell you anyway… before he has a chance to." He grins but there's sadness in his voice. "Well, I'm telling you." He's pacing now. His clenched fists are stuck deep inside his pockets and he looks down, watching his steps. "That's when he asked me if I proposed."

That definitely gets my attention. That's not how I pictured the next Valentine's day. Of all people I had to fall for him. A guy from another dimension no less.

"The man drives me insane Livia. Our night was already…"

"… a disaster?" I whisper.

He turns abruptly. "Something… different." He grins. "So I decided not to feed his delusions and went straight to my room."

I stay silent. He's not finished. I wish I could lie down and listen to his voice with my eyes closed… and just relax?

"Why don't you lie down?" He echoes. "I promise I'll be the perfect gentleman."

"I'm afraid I'll fall asleep."

"Don't worry, I'm almost done."

I spring back on the bed helping me with my hands, sit the pillow against the headboard and lace my fingers over my stomach. "I'm all set. Please, go on."

He casually takes my place at the foot of bed facing me. "You know I have this… tic. I like to play with a coin, do tricks, sort of. It's always in my pocket. I can't remember a day when I was without it. And I was so angry, that I dropped it. I shoved everything around, I never found it. It simply disappeared in the twilight zone."

Hence heavy objects being moved around. "More likely it fell between floorboards," I state, the big reveal stuck on the tip of my tongue, afraid I could suddenly blurt it out and crash his world.

He shrugs unaware of my trouble. "You must keep in mind that I was really really drunk," he's smiling, "and pissed, did I mention pissed? I knew that Walter kept this spare coin we found at the beach house somewhere in his stuff downstairs. So I decided it was time to make amend for whatever he was set to blame me for and simply ask him. I heard him snoring from the top of the stairs. I understand that they turned him into an institutionalized junkie in Sainte Claire but it drives me crazy. He takes so many homemade "cocktails" that if he was attacked by a vampire, the poor blood-sucker would be as high as a kite for days!"

I close my eyes trying to picture Lestat floating against a perfect violet sky with some gift ribbon attached to his leg.

"So I just left."

"You left?"

"Yep. I needed a breather. I walked to the river and finally spent the rest of the night reading old newspapers in a 24/7 café."

"Wait a minute, you have one fight and you take off? What are you, 12? And you didn't even take your coat?"

"How would you kn… Oh, of course, conducting a swift investigation of your own. So you were at the house. That's only fair. I pick your lock, you pick mine." I flush violently. "What did you find?"

I lock my eyes to his, at least I try. "You left your coat for one."

He chuckles. "You know Livia I do own several coats. And it's currently hanged near your front door."

"You didn't answer your cell. I called several times. We were worried…"

"My battery went dead, and I didn't have in mind packing my power cord when I left," he said somewhat reserved. "Who's we?"

"Walter doesn't know you spent the night away from home," I say, eluding the question. "Astrid's orders were to tell him you were helping me with a case."

"Astrid's orders? Great! I can't even run off for a day without you tracking my every move." Clearly he isn't fooled. His hand moves to my foot. His touch is soft and hesitant. "If I'm any trouble, I can leave now."

"No." His thumb rubbing my ankle is somewhat distracting. "I mean you can stay if you want. I'm so tired anyway."

He chuckles in the dim light. "Ouch."

"Sorry. I am rude."

"Nah, like you said you're just tired. Fancy a sandwich or something? Maybe we could try another restaurant…" he trails, his hand going up my leg under my pants.

"Eat… yeah, why not, we could order in. Save us another disappointment."

"You're probably right."

"Or I can fix dinner." His hand leaves my leg and he stands up. "I'll see what I can do."

I would like to tell him to stay, to hold me and be quiet but we're not there yet. And there's still this elephant in the room. I watch him leave the room and close my eyes. Peter seeking refuge at my place. That's a whole new parameter in our confused relationship. He whistles in the kitchen, opening the fridge and drawers. Plates clinging, the clash of a frying pan on the stove…

I've got to tell him or I won't be able to look at myself in a mirror.

Or I won't be able to look at him.


	5. Kiss and Tell

**FRINGE**

**KISS**** AND TELL**

No inFRiNGEment intended.

Note: after JACKSONVILLE. This is the 5th instalment (not much of a suspense… ;)

-o-

My gun. I need my gun. I can't remember where I left it. I search in the dark, my fingers brushing objects tossed inside a drawer for later examination. I know that I'll never have time to sort them out though. They are merely comfort keepsakes of moments that were important for reasons I've long forgotten.

But my gun is missing and I can sense that there's someone really close. Someone in my house. My search is frantic and random. I can feel the lump in my throat, beads of sweat on my forehead. I lick my lips, it tastes salty and reassuring.

"Hey, sleepy head, shh…" My eyes dart to the silhouette, trying to focus on the shadowy features. I feel uncontrollable panic taking over my body. My back is sore and there's a stinging pain in my left arm. "You're having a bad dream, Livia, I'm here, it's me, Peter."

Peter. Peter who's been hiding at my place.

"You fell asleep. It's me, calm down." His hands are pushing against my shoulders. I'm shaking, I'm scared. What's wrong with me?

"There nothing wrong with you, Livia, it's just a nightmare, I should know, I'm quite the specialist."

He sits on the bed and releases me. His hand lingers on my arm, he looks concerned. I nod. How does he do that? Why is he in my head? Is it just a coincidence? "I'm okay. I dozed off."

"You sure did!" he cheers.

I rub my arm vigorously. "Pins and needles," I shrug.

"Let me." He takes hold of my hand and massages the fingers, rubbing my arm up to the elbow and back. "Feel better?"

God, I feel like such a cliché right now, I can't afford to show weakness, even to Peter. "I'm okay." I swivel and swing my legs to the floor. "How long was I asleep?"

"I don't know, time enough to fix us an omelette and a salad. You should be ashamed of yourself. When was the last time you actually had a real meal here?"

"I order in," I lie dismissively.

"That explains I couldn't find any trash. You're the proud owner of the cleanest garbage can in the continental US. You don't have to lie to me Livia. I know that your work is important but you got to eat."

"I'm on a special diet."

"Corn flakes and Jack Daniel's?"

I can't decide whether it's funny or intrusive. I just give him a steady look. He knows when to stop. He grins and helps me up. "Come and see what we've got. It's going to be cold."

"That was good." I blow on my coffee and observe him above the rim of my cup.

"You're kidding right? Three slices of mummified cucumber and a bite of scrambled eggs that doesn't even begin to qualify for a decent meal!"

I can hear concern in his voice. I know. I should eat more. More often that is. But work always gets in the way and I know I'm on the verge of becoming addicted to a very peculiar brand of sugar that conveniently erases emotions.

"Peter. I'm okay, I wasn't that hungry."

"Do you plan to audition for Boston's Next Top Model anytime soon?" He's dead serious. If he finds a way to have his say, like go to Broyles for instance, he'll end up force-feeding me. I simply glare.

"Personal space. I get it. I'm not your father, do it your way, but you're wrong Olivia."

I flinch. I can't remember a time when he called me Olivia instead of Livia.

"Okay, okay, backing off now."

"Peter, speaking of father, did you call Walter? He must be worried sick. He probably wants to talk to you."

"I bet he does. And I'm guessing he left three million messages on my voice mail already. Remember, my battery died?"

"You could use my phone."

"I'm having a good time now. Allow me to keep it that way. I promise I'll apologize to Astrid later. I take it she's with him right?"

Concern again. Good. Maybe he'll be able to forgive him. They forged a strong bond, those two, I'm just not sure it's going to be enough. I feel like such a coward. "Yes, she volunteered to babysit your father, again. But that's two nights in a row Peter. You're going to have to make it up to her!" I tease him. My voice quivers.

"Whatever. I'd rather be here with you," he says, locking eyes with me. "You don't mind if I crash on you couch tonight, do you? I don't have the strength to discuss anything with him right now. And I don't have a car," he smiles.

"I can give you a ride home." I don't want to give him a ride home. I want to keep him right where he is. "Or you may stay." My cheeks start to burn and I look down. I hear his chair rattle on the floor and from the corner of my eyes, I see him get something near the stove. I raise my head with extra caution but he has his back to me.

"I hope you've some room left for dessert. No worries, it's not fruit or anything aggressively organic. Let's call it _la surprise du chef_. I saved them for a special occasion." He places a cup full of M&M's in front of me. I sit my coffee on the table while my eyes go wide and my eyebrow rockets to the line of my hair. I can't help grinning like an idiot.

"Don't worry, I took away the yellow ones."

"How…?"

"I have my sources," he smiles and brushes my hand.

I act like I didn't notice and grab a couple of colourful candies.

"I must warn you though, the blue ones are my favourite."

He folds his arms on his chest. He looks pleased with himself and he has every right to be. If Walter can be trusted, and I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, Peter is up to a major crisis of conscience.

"Fancy a last drink before I tuck you in?" he smiles enticingly.

I can't decide whether he's serious about the drink or about anything. Defenceless, I nod and gesture to the cabinet. "I thought you spent your day draining my stock?"

"I saved us this." He holds a bottle of whisky. He grabs my hand. "Take the M&M's with you, we'll be more comfortable in the living room. One drink and we call it a day, okay?"

I sit on the couch and place the cup on the coffee table. He pours some whisky in our glasses and sits next to me. "I could get used to this," he smiles, observing my reaction.

I'm glad I was prepared to this kind of head-on provocation and keep quiet.

"The not being with Walter all the time I mean. I don't want to sound obnoxious, but he can get on your nerves pretty easily when you're with him 24/7."

"I'm sorry it blew out of proportion, you know it was meant to be on a short term basis."

"We're not having this conversation again tonight. It's cool. I don't blame you for anything. Only I want to try something different."

"I understand that you'd like to have your own…"

"Not talking about that, Livia. You're not playing this game tonight. Do you want to pretend that nothing… almost happened?"

What I want is him to stop talking. I'm going to drive him back to Walter's. Him being here, that was a bad idea. I mean to put down my glass on the table and it crashes, hundreds of shiny slivers rocketing down to the carpet. I know he's right. We've got to get this out of our system and move on. He's my partner, we shouldn't have let it go that far, but now the cat is out of the bag. Our mutual attraction is no secret and we only have our job to turn to. We're only human. That was meant to happen. Without thinking, I hold out my hand to clean up the mess. Anything to give me some time to pull myself together.

"Don't hurt yourself," he takes my hand in his. "What I meant really was… I want to try something." He waits for a sign but if I speak, I will make a fool of myself. He gets closer. What will happen if we kiss? Can we still be friends?

"Don't overthink it," he breathes in my ear. His arms wrap around me, his mouth following the line of my jaw, and he kisses my neck gently.

But I do, I do overthink it, I have to. I have to make sense of all this. For everybody, a kiss is just a kiss. But since John died, I only kissed Lukas and we'd kissed before. And even that, I couldn't. What if Peter pulls a Houdini once Walter breaks him the news and I'm left alone again? What if he goes to the other side and fights against us? It takes strength for me to open up to an emotion that will make me vulnerable, even if it makes me stronger in the end. Just like I did, allowing fear to creep inside my mind. That helped me save those people in the disappearing building. But I can't help struggling against it.

"I'm not read…"

"Of course you are. Say it, say that you don't want me to kiss you." His eyes sparkle. I bit my lip and I must look desperate because he frowns. "Oh… oh, you don't, I'm sorry, I must have misread the signals. I'm sorry. I'm going to leave."

I grab his shirt. "Please, don't. Don't go… I… I—I want to kiss you, it's…"

His mouth crushes mine, and I close my eyes.

_I__t's just that you're glimmering again and it's killing me not to be allowed to tell you anything_.


	6. The Morning After

**FRINGE**

**THE MORNING AFTER**

No inFRiNGEment intended.

Note: after JACKSONVILLE.

-o-

My hair is dripping on the bathroom mat. I quickly twist it in a towel and tuck the end at the back of my head. I wrap myself inside a bath towel and wipe the condensation off the mirror. I slowly massage my temples, checking my face. I don't look different. Somehow, I thought I would.

But I should feel worn out too and yet I'm not. For the first time in weeks, I simply feel happy.

"Hey, you're up early." His chin on my shoulder, he quietly nibbles my ear lobe.

"Well some of us do have to work for a living, mister."

"I'm just a consultant, I wouldn't know." He smiles back at me in the mirror.

"A consultant without his cell is not really a consultant, in my book."

"Who says I'm not consulting right now?" he asks, his hands gliding over my body. I place my hands on his.

"The towel stays."

His right hand stops around my waist. "I clearly remember that you mentioned excitement in my job description."

I chuckle. "My words must have been twisted."

"The only thing twisted here is your hair." He pulls the towel and run his free hand in my hair.

"I got to see Broyles."

"Of course you got to see Broyles," he muses softly, caressing my shoulders, "but not right away."

His hand is insistent and I feel the moan that's building up in my chest ready to escape. "I just can't call in sick whenever I fancy."

"Come on! You work on a 24/7 basis and you've done that for months already, years as far as I know…"

"Aren't you interested in preventing another attack?"

"No, not this minute. I'm more interested in…"

"Peter, can't you be serious for five minutes?"

"I think that Walter came up with a very good explanation, I've got one of my own ready to be put to the test. And yes, I'm guessing that our friends won't stop there."

"My point exactly, we have to stop them. This can't wait."

"How?"

"Whatever it takes."

He sighs and his hand rubs my thigh. "Can't we lock the door, close the blinds and pretend it's Sunday or something instead?"

"I have to go downtown to grab some files and back to the lab to debrief Walter."

"Debrief Walter. Interesting notion. And, you, you think you're serious? How do you propose to do that exactly? The fact that he's conversant in almost every scientific field doesn't make him any less of a nutcase."

"Still." His hands rest for a minute on my back. "We need his help. And whatever he can come up with, I'm willing to hear it. As should you, Peter." I feel my pulse racing and check his face. But he's not glimmering or anything. "Promise me you will listen to him." I turn around and he snakes his arms around me and snuggle. He tugs at the towel and leans forward to kiss me. "Please, don't. Peter, you've been AWOL for 24 hours, I can't afford to be late. I've got some serious explaining to do at the Division on your behalf."

He moves back and stares. "If you rely on Walter's antics to solve the case, you're up to some major disillusions."

I don't want to address this particular issue right now. "Isn't it what we've been doing for the past 18 months?"

"And all this time I thought that you relied on me." He knows as well as I do that we need him to get to Walter. "Even after your Florida epiphany you're giving him a free pass?"

He's right, but Walter is all we got. And now that I have literally my hands on what he's capable of, I won't back off. "I guess I am."

"And I was stupid enough to think that you'll burn your Team Walter t-shirt the minute you set foot in that daycare center." He shrugs and almost let go of me. I try to wriggle out of his embrace and he grins. "Not so fast. You're cruel this morning. You do realize that you're going to have to make it up to me," he states with an enticing smile.

"Please, I should be gone already."

He couldn't be less interested. "You don't have to push me away to get me crawling to you, Livia. I thought I made myself perfectly clear about that." He begins kissing my neck, all the way up by my ear, his hands gently stroking my back, and slowly works his way down my neck to the collarbone. Pushing him away this morning falls into the category of the most difficult thing I have had to do since… forever. He cups my face and kisses me. My resolve crumbles down on the bathroom tiles. I inhale deeply and nudge him away.

"Like it or not, I'm taking you back to your place, you got to change clothes."

"What clothes?" he asks innocently, tucking on my towel again.

"Stop it!" I slap his hand gently and push him outside the room. "We'll eat out."

"Why? I can fix you a perfectly decent coffee right here. Wait, you don't have any coffee?"

"Breakfast is on me. We'll grab something on the way."

I slam the door the minute he finally gets my towel.

"You're not going to make me disappear just because you close the door Olivia," he says. I hear him scratch the surface on the other side.

"I know, but if you want a ride, you'd better put on some clothes on, cause I'm leaving as soon as my hair is dry."

-o-

"That's the worst coffee I've had in years!"

"Stop whining. It's not very sexy you know," I glanced in his general direction, my eyes on the road. Traffic is heavy this morning and his presence is far more distracting than anticipated.

"And it's too hot," he screams.

I giggle and pull over before the house. "Here you go. See you in a bit. Check your voice mail."

"You're not coming in?"

"I think not. If I come in, it kind of defeats the purpose of getting us out of my apartment."

He beams. "I knew it. Despite your appalling taste in clothing, you're actually not an android."

"Well, you'll have to ask Walter on that one."

"Or maybe you're an android with needs."

"Out! See you later Peter."

"You're not going to kiss me?"

I sigh, my hands clenched on the wheel, staring at the navigation system. "Okay. But then you promise you'll get out of my car, right? I don't have time for this."

"Promise," he grins, crossing his fingers.

I unfasten my seatbelt and turn to him but he beats me to it and grabs me hungrily. "Peter!" I squeal. Not loud enough to cover the ringtone. "That's me, sorry, I have to get that."

He makes out my bossy tone immediately because he stops. He gives me a big smooch on the cheek and springs out of the car. "See you at the lab," he mouths, closing the door behind him.

"Peter!"

He turns around and walks back to the car with a huge grin.

"Talk to your father. Promise me."

He stops and gives me an interrogative look.

"Promise." He nods.

I watch him go the house. I bite my lips, my hand absently brushes my forehead and smoothes my hair. "Olivia Dunham," I say, my mind a blank slate.


	7. The Morning Before

**THE ****MORNING BEFORE**

No inFRiNGEment intended.

_Note: events set right after JACKSONVILLE. Filler_

**Thank you again guys for the great support. i'm not very comfortable with writing multi chapter fics, so please, bear with me ;)**

-o-

Walter woke up with a start and tried to make sense of the luminescent hands on his alarm clock. He was a firm believer that digital clocks where only meant to give false representation of time and fancied children alarm clocks instead. Since Asteroid gave him a glimpse of the fantastic realm of video gaming, his favourite clock had been a blue one featuring Squirtle and Charmander. He regularly forgot to set his alarm but just in case, it was 8 minutes early because he preferred not to be rushed in the morning.

Most nights anyway, Olivia seemed to be their personal alarm clock. Not that he actually bothered to be awakened in the middle of the night. He liked to have his circadian rhythms challenged. He much preferred to adjust his chronobiology to respond to random quantum accidents such as interpenetrating dimensions colliding or aging babies rather than to more basic endogenous reasons.

It was still dark, so it was probably one of these days, nights rather, when Olivia called Peter for another exciting mission. He sat up in his bed. Apart from the soothing ticking of his clock, troubled by the general rumour of distant traffic and circumstantial sirens from the outside world, the house was quiet. Maybe it was only Peter who was back from his date with Olivia.

His face crumpled under stress. Peter had been back already. He remembered with dreadful clarity blaming him for pushing agent Dunham away.

_"How would you know Walter? Anyway, I don't want to talk about it."_

_"Because that's what you do Peter. You cannot focus on a simple goal, you're not persistent enough. I told you that agent Dunham was…"_

_"No Walter, don't. Personal space, remember, we talked about that already?"_

_"Women are sensitive beings, they need to be loved and…"_

_"Say the blind leading the blind."_

_"Peter have you been drinking?"_

_"That's none of your business Walter. It's late and as much as I like having awkward conversations with you in the middle of the night, I'm not ready to discuss my personal life with you. Especially tonight."_

_"Peter are you aware that you're not so young any more? It is time to settle down."_

_"Walter!"_

_"And you must know that drinking is a nasty habit."_

_"I'm not a drunk. I may be a dysfunctional adult but what did you expect? It seems to run in the family."_

_"At least I don't play poker with the object of my affection."_

_"Olivia happens to like poker and she's not the object of my affection. I don't even know why I'm trying to explain anything."_

_"Because you're a stubborn fool who refuses to face reality."_

_"As compared to what? A stubborn old fool who lives in a fantasy world?"_

_"You must know that being spiritual and witty is not enough. Sometimes a romantic dinner, fiddlers, moonlight, red roses and champagne are a great help to seduce a woman of your liking."_

_"Back off Walter. I'm going to bed."_

Was he imagining this conversation? Worried, he got up and walked across the living room in his pyjamas to check the kitchen. Astrid had tidied up the place and it was sparkling. He sighed and gazed at the flight of stairs. He should go to Peter and apologize. If he remembered correctly, that was the only course of action. Peter was right. It was not his business. There was no need to rush him and Olivia into a romantic relationship if they were not ready. Had he imagined their fight, they'll spend some quality time together. He wouldn't wake him up of course, but watching him sleep would be some time well spent anyway.

He silently jogged upstairs, listening intently. He stopped before the spare bedroom where Astrid was asleep and glided slowly to the end of the hall to Peter's bedroom. The brass handle shone in the dim light. He turned it, peeked inside the room and walked in.

The bed hasn't been slept in. He exhaled deeply. It had been a bad dream after all. Peter wasn't even home yet and their awful conversation never took place. Relieved, he left the room and decided it was time for a late (or early) light meal. Maybe pickles and blackcurrant jelly on a toast and a large pot of coffee. Or Russian tea…

Walter smiled and headed back to the stairs. He stopped again before Astrid's door, pressed his ear against it. He couldn't hear her breathe. Worried, he opened the door, sneaking in silently on his wool socks and ended watching her sleep.

Astrid turned around in her bed and he came back to reality. He wasn't hungry any more.

Astrid knew. He practically blurted it out to her out of guilt and anger. But she didn't have time to process it correctly, she probably will eventually.

Rebecca knew it too. But she was not going to tell anyone. That was their secret to share.

Olivia knew. She saw the glimmer. She was devastated. And he asked her not to tell him. What an old fool. She couldn't conceal this from Peter. He shouldn't have asked her not to. He should be the one to tell him. But how could he?

His heart was racing. He reached out to the wall and tried to keep his balance. He will lose Peter. For good. Peter will never forgive him. He tried to breathe but he couldn't, his sight was blurred, his head pounding. There was no way out this time.

And now Peter wasn't home yet. Why? Has he been hurt? Was he with Olivia? Had she told him the truth about what she saw?

He blocked any additional disturbing thoughts, rushed downstairs choking back tears of anguish, slipped inside his bed, pulled the cover under his chin and fell asleep immediately, exhaustion kicking in.

Next thing he knew, Astrid was fixing them breakfast. She could make the most amazing waffles. If he was behaving nicely, she would let him dress them with syrup AND ice cream. Or whipped cream…

Practically drooling in anticipation, he went to the kitchen. He was right. Asterix was making waffles. It must be Saturday, he thought. He frowned. _Why should I think it's Saturday_?

"Good morning agent Farnsworth. Is it Saturday?"

"Tuesday Walter. Good morning to you too. Did you sleep well? I can't believe you win again yesterday. Some time, you'll have to teach me."

But Walter wasn't listening. "Where is Peter?" He seemed light-struck.

"I think he's still asleep." She missed the sudden relief flooding his face. She put a large plate full of crispy waffles on the table and poured him a large cup of steaming coffee. "Do you want me to wake him up?"

"No, no! He might have come back in the middle of the night. Let him sleep in." He sat down. "He was on a date with agent Dunham," he confessed with glee. "Extra sugar, yes, please."

"A date, really." Astrid turned her back to him to fetch something from the counter. "I wasn't aware that Peter and Olivia were dating."

"Well, they are now. He took her to a restaurant last night."

"Yes, you told me that already but Walter, that doesn't mean they were on a date. People can go out for drinks, to talk and relax."

He inhaled and opened his mouth but decided against saying whatever he was going to say and took a bite of his first waffle. The first one was always the BEST. Almost too warm, but ultra crispy. He chewed five times and took another bite. "Maybe he even went to her place last night," he finally said, "you know…"

Astrid tiptoed around the subject. She hated to burst his fantasy bubble but someone had to do it. "Walter, I don't want to pry, but I heard you last night, after I went to bed. You two had a fight right?"

Walter froze, his eyes going frantically from his plate to Astrid and back. "No, no, no…" His hands fidgeting into a sudden burst of panic, he hit the table with his fork and knife. 'No, no, no…"

Astrid knew she had to push him harder even if it was painful to watch, that was the only way to avoid the crisis. "Peter seemed pretty upset," she continued. "You know you shouldn't talk to him once you've taken your… supplements."

But Walter was locked into denial mode. "No, no, no. It's not possible. He stayed at Olivia's. I was asleep. No, he was not in his bed." Inhaling deeply, he looked up to Astrid. "You snore when you dream agent Farnsworth. Peter… his bed was…" His body seems to shrink inside his pyjamas and he melted down on his chair, the perfect image of despair.

"Calm down Walter. Maybe I'm wrong." From the wrinkles on his forehead and his mouth quivering, she knew she was right, they did have a bad fight. But watching him fall apart after he had seemed so together the last few days, that was awful. Really. "Do you want me to check on him?"

From distraught, his face became hopeful and gentle. "Yes, please," he answered quietly. He fiddled with his fork, his eyes never leaving the small hole in the table cloth.

When she came back, he was absently poking at his untouched food and didn't look at her.

"Peter is not in his room. Please, get ready Walter, we have to get to the lab asap. Peter doesn't answer his phone," she said more to herself than for Walter's benefit. "You sure you don't remember what happened?"

He nodded with dismay, and stabbed the waffles violently. Then he stooped so low that she began to suspect he had a heart attack. Eventually, he gave her a piercing glare. He mumbled some incoherent words, along the lines of hell, fury and just punishment.

"We're leaving in ten. Please get ready Walter. I've got to put away this mess. I'll call Olivia on the way to the lab."

But she had not such luck. While they were stuck in traffic, Walter suddenly became more agitated than his usual. When they passed the next 7-eleven, his confusion reached its acme. "Stop!" he shouted. She did her best to keep him inside the car while she parked. He was already running to the store when he stopped dead in his tracks, turned back, his face distorted by anger and something else. Was it guilt? _Is he blaming himself for Peter's absence?_ As far as she knew, Bishop junior was probably asleep at the lab, or sobering up at Olivia's. "Agent Farnsworth, I need… things, but don't have any money."

"No worries Walter, go ahead, I'll pay for it."

Relieved, he scurried to the store.

She opened the trunk and stored inside enough flour, eggs and milk to fix breakfast for a homeless shelter. She didn't comment on his behaviour. She'll know soon enough. They shared an awkward silence all the way to Harvard. Once in the lab, he put on his white coat and forgot about her instantly. Before calling Olivia, she decided to check the lab first. But Peter hadn't crashed on Olivia's couch this time. She glanced at Walter who was currently mixing large quantities of milk inside a giant bowl. _Note to myself, remember to milk Gene_, she thought. Walter forgetting this important part of his routine was definitely a bad omen.

She flied to the library, roamed around the empty hallways, searched the cafeteria, the parking lot, called Peter a dozen times and went back to the lab with more questions than she had before. Walter's concern was rubbing on her. She could sense that a narrow line was keeping him away from going back to the dark place his mind had been when they first met, two years ago. She didn't want to make flimsy assumptions on Peter's whereabouts. Walter knew better than to believe her. Something bad has happened and he was adamant to keep it under wrap. She watched him throw away at least half a gallon of new batter and dialled Olivia's cell.

"Agent Dunham," she said, "I think you should come to the lab. Immediately."


	8. The In Between

**THE ****IN BETWEEN**

No inFRiNGEment intended.

Note: What happened to Peter after the restaurant debacle? JACKSONVILLE filler. Part 8.

-o-

I watch the back of the taxi disappear round the corner. That went well, so much for trying to take our relationship to the next level. I breathe in deeply and tuck my hands in my peacoat.

What the hell happened? I opened the door, I remember I was teasing Walter, and she was in a good mood, for this one time, we seemed to be on the same page. Opening the door and seeing her on my front porch with a happy face, that was new. My heart swelled. How can I miss her so much when I only left her a couple of hours ago? Obviously, she had not been fooled by my going-for-drinks-is-what-friends-do routine. She changed. She got rid of the ponytail and let her hair down the way she knows I like it. She had every opportunity to test my MO first hand (no pun intended). What can I say? I like to run my hand in women's hair, that's kind of what I do. I'm sure she liked it as much as I did.

Actually the right question is not what the hell happened but what the hell happened when I was upstairs searching for my coat.

I kick a can absently and the sound echoes in the street. I wish I were drunk. This dinner, that was simply the worse evening I ever spent with her. At some point, she was so afraid I might touch her, she resorted to pretending she had to answer her cell. After that, I probably made a fool of myself. Even to my ears, my jokes sounded lame and I can't blame her for cutting our date short. I'm not a fan of watching paint dry either.

I'm sure it's Walter's fault. He must have done or said something stupid like he usually does and killed her mood. My guts tell me there's more. She's used to listening to his foolish antics about me and her being meant for each other and all this bullshit. She knows better than being upset over the old man's romantic fantasies. No, there's definitely something else. What is it that she's hiding from me?

She was clearly uncomfortable when we left the house. All the way to the restaurant, she looked like she'd seen a ghost. I'm pretty sure she was crying at some point. When I make a woman cry, I'm usually privy to why. I'm supposed to be smart, but it goes in the way of being spontaneous. She practically fell into my arms and instead of letting my guard down, I took refuge behind wisecracks. It's hardly surprising that she reacted accordingly. That was not funny, that was insulting. I should have kissed her right there, when I had the chance.

In fact, I should have called it quits and drive her home instead of hoping it would go away. That only got us through the most dreadful dinner ever. Man, I can be so dense. She needed space and I was so blind I couldn't give her that. Dense and selfish. I should have been more perceptive. She probably never meant to kiss me in the first place. It was merely wishful thinking on my part. _Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you had it coming. And there's one thing you're sure 100%, she almost kissed you. _Well she almost let me kiss her, that is.

Perfect. Not even ten thirty and she can't even bear to let me walk her back to her car, not exactly what I had in mind when I asked her out. No way I'm going home now. If I confront Walter now, that's not going to be pretty. I need a drink, actually I need lots of drinks. I push the door to the first bar.

-o-

I rush inside my room and slam the door behind me. How could he? I force myself to breathe in and out slowly, but alcohol levels in my blood turn it into a challenge. I stand still before the bed, put my hands on the frame and close my eyes. Better. At least the room stops spinning and I can concentrate.

Not only he ruined my mother's life, and mine, now he wants to pretend that he's the perfect father? I'm 32 and I live with the guy for crying out loud. Can't he be content with our not so temporary arrangement and give me a break? For starters, why couldn't he be asleep like an average sixty year old? No, he had to wait up for me and put the last nail in my coffin as deep as he possibly could. Maybe I wasn't drunk enough to put up with his nonsense. Or maybe he hit a raw nerve.

I retrieve my lucky coin from my pocket. The old habit never failed me. Before I know it, I'm pacing like a maniac. Walter has a way of getting on my nerves. The somersaulting coin soon works its magic and I simmer down gradually. He's perfectly aware I simply can't stand this type of pressure right now. And he keeps pushing, from every darn angle, god dammit!

It's not enough that I almost had the whole thing blow up right in my face last year. Her sister, what was I thinking? There's no way I could have pulled this one off without hurting her. And yet I did. I stopped this close to reaching the point of no return with her. I got back to my senses when I realized she was jealous. It just broke my heart that I could hurt her. Thinking about it, it must have been awkward for Rach. Or maybe not. She's quite the party girl this one. To be honest, I think we just used each other. She knew from the start I was barking at the wrong tree.

I chuckle and the coin tumbles down behind a piece of furniture, bringing back a flash of anger. Of course I want to settle down. When you meet a woman like Olivia Dunham, it seems only natural. Man, did we click nicely in Iraq when she blackmailed me back to Boston. Despite our differences, despite John and my shady past, we were both aware of the instant attraction between us.

I push the bed and every possible object likely to block the coin from my view. I stumble awkwardly and my head spins. I trip on the carpet and fall on the bed. Okay, I'm officially wasted.

The hell with it. I have to take a breather. I can't be near Walter tonight, if I stay, it will end badly. I know that I can snap anytime and decide to simply leave without turning back, even more so now that she rejects me. This, this never happened before. And I'm sure it's not alcohol talking. It was like she was afraid of me. Scary.

I grab a jacket and leave the house.

It's not that late. Obviously, I could go to her place and apologize. I have no idea what for, but apologizing is good. I stride off as fast as I can, juggling with illogical thoughts. With no direction in mind, I just walk away and finally find the river. After a while, cold and damp make me want to stay on the move.

Before I know it, I'm pacing in front of Tess's building. Very bright Peter. Kelly and his company of thugs would be more than happy to give you a ride for your money. Not that I would mind getting into a brawl tonight with some heavies, but even in my current state of intoxication, I can see the shortcomings of my plan. A few blocks later, I finally reach Boston South Station. There's a 24/7 cheap grill restaurant near by. I settle near the exit on an aqua-green vinyl booth style seat which has seen better days and try to conceal my eyes from the flashy neon signs. The place is empty. The waitress strolls towards me in slow motion with a pot of coffee she made some time before Bush first term. I thank her and my smile must be genuine enough since she flirts back. Once she's out of my sight frying some unspeakable food, I check the Boston Globe. Too early to call my favourite bookie, but I take a few notes. Betting the ponies is risky but I'm a natural and I need the petty cash. It makes easy pocket money and lets me save my pay check in case of an emergency unplanned getaway.

My mind must have drifted off, and I come back to reality when the first herd of commuters swarms the place for a quick breakfast. I leave a few dollars on the table and walk back to Cambridge. My head is almost clear. I spot the lights in Olivia's apartment and hide behind a parked laundry van. I don't wait long. A few minutes later, a cab honks in front of her building and she trots down the stairs, pressing a bunch of paperwork against her breast. From my vantage point on the other side of the street, I can see that she didn't sleep well. She's as white as a sheet. She glances in my direction, her eyebrows knitted and then she's gone. I walk calmly to her door, pick the lock and gets in. The place smells like her. A classic combination of jasmine, rose, violet, iris and lily of the valley. The flower bouquet is balanced with a more masculine note, vetiver. The potent scent of bergamot and musk still floats in the air. Chanel n° 5. Now I'm home.

I leisurely go around the apartment, wash the dishes, check the fridge, make the bed, resisting lying down and drowning into oblivion. After a quick shower, I feel less romantic and totally burned out. I take a couple of bottles from the cabinet, grab a glass in the kitchen and settle down in front of the TV. I won't be bothered by Walter or by the Bureau today. My phone died right after I placed my morning bets.

And that's the last place they'll come looking for me.


	9. Lab, Take 2

**FRINGE**

**Lab, Take 2**

**(I'm Scared****, part 9)**

No inFRiNGEment intended.

Note: _I'm sorry if I got some of you guys confused. Obviously "_blurred_" was about the date taking place right after the end of the episode JACKSONVILLE. "_flight", "fight", "kiss and tell" & "the morning after_", the day, evening and morning after from Liv's POV. "_the morning before_" goes back to the end of the episode from Walter's (and Astrid) POV. "_the in between_" is from Peter's POV and set right after the date. _

_t__his new chapter finds Liv going back to the lab and follows "_the morning after_"... I'm only hoping I didn't make it any more confusing _

_The whole thing being totally A/U and pure speculation on my part…. I want to thank you again for the great support._

-o-

The day dries in a haze. I can't even recall the last time I was happy or sad or angry. I feel nothing. All my senses have been numbed. Everything I've been told for the last 25 years or so was a blatant lie covering more lies, revelation zeroing in on the only possible conclusion: I'm dead.

And right this minute, even a couple of days after Walter finally came clean, not only am I technically dead in this world, but I'm dead inside.

*

TWO DAYS BEFORE

Her cell rang the minute she reached Harvard. "Agent Dunham, Astrid. Peter called, he's all right. I wanted you to know as soon as possible. I'm not sure I can't control Walter. He's in a…"

She cut her off. "I'm coming in Astrid. I'm parking right now. Did Peter say anything else?"

"He said he's got a thing or two to take care of and he'll be here."

Olivia killed the ignition, looked at her reflexion in the courtesy mirror and decided that if they were going to be found out, there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She grabbed her things on the back seat, locked the car and took her time to get to the lab. She unravelled the last 24 hours in the back of her mind, gradually erasing the silly smile gracing her face. She wasn't even bothered any more by the fact he was not from this world. When she was certain she'd pulled herself together, she entered the lab.

Greeted by the familiar humming of various electronic appliances and a loud moo, she glanced at Gene's stall to discover Walter having breakfast and watching TV two feet away from the big pied ruminant. Astrid jumped up the stairs.

"Good morning Astrid."

"When Peter called I didn't ask anything, I didn't want to spook him before we got a chance to debrief him."

Olivia simply nodded and slowly walked up to Walter.

"Oh, agent Dunham, have you had breakfast yet? Peter is not with you?" He winced and his face melted but he recovered instantly, apparently dismissing whatever confusing thoughts that might have crossed his mind. He held out his bowl with a candid smile. "This is a new brand, it's especially tasty. Would you like to try it? I can ask Agent Farnsworth to fix you another bowl. She supervises my diet. She says I don't take enough care of my health." He munched on a spoonful of multicoloured cereals, glanced at the TV and chuckled.

She pretended she couldn't see the giant flying elephant hovering over their heads. "What are you watching Walter? Is it Spongebob again?"

"Yes, yes, I'm multitasking." He breathed in with a whiz. Milk ran from the corner of his mouth, dripping on his plaid shirt. "How is Peter agent Dunham?"

"I wouldn't know Walter."

"Right, right," he winked with a conniving smile, "don't worry, I won't tell anyone." He turned his attention back to his series and burst out laughing. "See, Gene, I told you he'd say that!"

"Walter, pay attention please. Do you remember what I asked you?"

"…"

"You know you'll have to talk to him eventually."

Walter glanced and sat his bowl at his feet. He stood up but didn't seem able to stand straight, his back oddly hunched, his face pleading. "Can't it wait till Monday?" he whined, patting Gene absently. "I have to think of the good way. These matters simply cannot be rushed agent Dunham."

"You don't think you waited long enough?" she lowered her voice to a whisper. But Astrid was busy at her desk. "You tell him today. No more stalling."

Walter shuffled slightly and tucked his hands in his lab coat, glancing from Gene to Astrid and back to her.

"Walter, will you promise me?"

Now he was looking stubbornly at his feet, and mumbling quietly to himself, his face inscrutable.

"Walter!" She insisted, raising her voice. "There is no point to keeping it from him. I don't want to lie to Peter and I don't want to keep your secret for you." She had the funny feeling she had already waited way too long. She should have told Peter right the minute she knew. Or confront Walter. Or both. "Walter, listen to me. If you don't, I will." And then she knew with absolute clarity that something was bound to happen, and that she'll be a casualty in this war Walter started years ago. She might even lose Peter.

"You will? What did I miss?" Peter's voice startled them all. She flushed, Walter gazed absently, and Astrid jumped again. "The door was open. Isn't this place supposed to be top secret of something? Maybe we could ask the Bureau for some state of the art equipment to protect us from the candid mob."

He seemed in a very happy mood and she hated it. She wanted them back to before when she was pretending she didn't care for him in that way, when he was just a genius and a pain in the ass and Walter's caretaker and translator. She glared, anger flowing in her veins.

"What did I say? Did someone die?" he joked.

And she simply hated the fact that she'll be the bearer of the truth. Eventually.

Peter placed gently the four cup cardboard tray on his desk, along with a bag of greasy doughnuts, got back to the door to hang his things. He handed out one cup to Astrid with a spring in his step, took another cup to Walter, "It's okay, Walter, you didn't have to wait for me, I know I've been missing. I should have called, I'm sorry," and turned to Olivia, leaving Walter in shock. "And here's your espresso macchiato Livia." He took the lid of his cup and swallowed with a smile.

She smiled back mechanically. It was going to be a very long day. But the one day she was willing to give Walter. One day.

*

She looked up to see Walter quietly closing the door of her office behind him.

"What are you doing Walter?"

"I have to tell you how it happened."

"I'm not interested Walter. I'm not the one you should tell. Peter must know the truth."

"I know, I know, just bear with me agent Dunham. May I?" he gestured to the couch facing her desk. "I'd better be comfortable. It's going to take à while."

"Where is Peter?" she asked feebly. "Can't he join us and enjoy the show?"

Walter flinched but didn't throw a fit. He simply dropped his chin to his chest and waited, with his hands folded on his lap.

"You may sit down," she finally gave up. "Where is Peter?" she said again watching him arrange the cushions behind his back and crossing his legs.

He laced his fingers. "I sent him fetch me some files."

"We should wait for him."

"Well, in that case, I'll take my leave." He sighed and stood up, already reaching to the door knob without a look back. He stopped, having second thoughts. "You know I sent him to Vermont to search an old warehouse I used for storage years ago. Obsolete stuff, nothing I won't need anytime soon," he explained with an absent smile.

She sighed. "Okay Walter. Come back and sit. I'm listening."

-o-

_Thanks again for reading :)_


	10. Valentine's Day

**FRINGE**

**Valentine's Day**

**(I'm Scared part 10)**

No inFRiNGEment intended.

How often Valentine's day is on a Sunday?

-o-

Walter stopped pacing and suddenly came to a halt. Olivia froze. He turned back to facing her and glared. "Now that I gave you my full confession agent Dunham, you must do what you have to do."

With that, he dashed to the door and disappeared into the lab. And Olivia simply watched him walk away. She couldn't move. Her body was hurting like under too much stress. She'd been trying to hide her feelings when he was talking, and now she was paying the price. Her back was sore, her joints were aching, and she couldn't feel her eyes after such a long time refraining from bursting into tears in front of him. For the best part of his plea, she managed to keep a distant poise, but she knew she hadn't fooled him. Not for one minute.

And because it was a poignant plea, no one could deny it, she was moved. She was moved beyond Walter's expectations in fact. She wiped her watery eyes, checked her face in a small mirror she kept in her drawer and made a futile attempt at getting herself back together. Now she had to face the new reality. Walter will never tell Peter, she thought. He would never lower himself to involving Peter's mother in all this. She was off limits, untouchable. Peter would unmistakably think that Walter was blaming her to stay clean.

The best part was that she couldn't tell him either, there was too much at stake, the Fringe Division, the Project and Walter wasn't out of the woods yet, with the stigma of Sainte Claire indelible paper trail and a permanent threat from his director, Dr Sumner. She had managed to keep him at bay but she could not erase his request to commit Walter again into the institution. With Peter gone, Walter would be back to the psychiatric ward in a split second since Sumner made it perfectly clear that Walter had no business being out of his hospital.

She almost hissed in frustration. She left her desk to close the door and went back to her chair. She smirked, and sat, feeling beaten and exhausted. They were facing impossible choices. It seemed to her they had merely reached a stalemate. But the more they stalled, the more Peter's reaction will be violent.

Either way, he'll never forgive Walter for keeping this secret for so long or he won't exonerate her since should she choose to keep her mouth shut. If only there was a way to make him guess. He was an intelligent man. Somehow he might have put the pieces back together. Most likely, he hasn't tried to. Improbable causes. No. If he was to guess, it would only make the matter worse. This all snapping another kid from an alternate reality was unforgivable and a dead end.

She put her elbows on the desk and held her head in her hands. Why did she ever meet the Bishops? It would be so easy to pretend that nothing happened. Too easy. She couldn't afford the luxury to run away, sprint to the car and drive as far away as possible and forget everything. Start a new life from scratch. That was Peter's prerogative. Her head was throbbing. She had to find a way to clear her mind. But she was good at finding solutions not at planning schemes. She sat back and took a deep breath. The lab was quiet outside her secluded office but eventually, she'll have to go outside and face the consequences. The worst part was that she actually waited for almost two years before finally sleeping with him, knowing perfectly well that not only it was a big mistake, but also her devious way of saying she would never betray Walter's secret. Suddenly she felt trapped.

Her cell vibrated in her pocket. She grabbed it mechanically and answered, not bothering to check the ID. "Dunham."

"Hey, it's me! Why so serious? Walter acted out again? Or you're having your hands full with fighting killer zombies or something?" Peter's voice was carefree and happy.

"Peter?" Her mind went blank.

"I'm upstate. Walter sent me on one of his crazy errand. Silly me, I thought it would be easier to comply."

"You did?" Her voice sounded hollow. Think, think fast. But she knew she couldn't blurt the truth over the phone.

"Hence he won't get in the way of my being away from home tonight."

"Tonight?" God, she was repeating his words like an idiot.

"Yep. I was thinking that maybe we could have dinner…" he trailed. "We're still… friends, right?" he mused.

"Tonight?" she said again, doing her best at concealing panic in her voice.

"Livia, something's wrong?"

"No, everything's good, just work, you know" she lied. She heard him chuckle. "Peter, I'm babysitting Ella tonight. Rach is in town."

"Oh, it's okay, Ella knows me."

"She knows you as her mother's… friend and my colleague."

"I can come later then," he said, apparently refusing to acknowledge her hesitation, "when she's asleep."

"I don't know. I mean… it's complicated…"

"Isn't it always?"

More complicated, she thought. "… and your lot, you know you and your buddies the super heroes, I know you don't have to sleep but I need my beauty sleep. And last night…"

He chuckled again and she blushed. "You win. I guess I was overly optimistic about my trip to Vermont anyway. It's probably going to take me like forever to find what Walter wants. It gives me time to wrap it up nicely. So, I won't rush back to you, but you have to promise me that I'll see you on Sunday."

"What's so special about Sunday?" Two days. She had only two days left to find a way to tell him the truth.

"Sunday. Check your calendar. Miss you Livia."

Miss you too, she thought when she hang up on him. She called Rachel, packed her things and went back home.

-o-

"Hey sis', long time no see," Rachel chirped. She sat Ella's bag near the front door and turned back to her sister. She gave her a big smack on the cheek and hugged her vigorously. "You look good, Liv. Anything I should know?"

"Like what?" Olivia snapped. "Hey Ella, you're so big! When was the last time I saw you?" she cheered, embracing the young girl who beamed in her arms.

"You're okay with that Liv, I'm sure I can find another way if you're busy…"

"Which I'm not."

"Okay, don't bite," Rachel smiled. "See I couldn't stay in Philly, especially this week end," she added in a conspiratorial tone.

What was so special with this week end? Olivia asked herself again for the second time in the past hours, apart from being an exceptionally sunny week end for February and the week end she'll probably lose Peter forever. "I see," she answered casually.

"Says the girl who doesn't see anything. Imagine Liv, being in Philly, couple of block away from… HIM this week end? No way!" she shivered theatrically.

HIM being her new evil incarnate, her soon to be ex-husband Greg, Olivia thought. She shrugged. "You're right. I don't see anything."

"If you had a boyfriend, you would know," Rachel teased her. Olivia went beet red. Rach paused, her face puzzled. "A boyfriend you don't have or are you trying to hide something from me?"

Olivia turned away and took Ella's bag. She shook her head. "I'll put Ella's bag in her room."

"Don't try to change the subject, who's he? Aunt Liv has a boyfriend, aunt Liv has a boyfriend," she began to chant bouncing around like a teenager. Her daughter glanced happily from her mother to her aunt and beamed again. Mimicking her mother, she started to chant along.

"Stop it Rach, I don't have a boyfriend!"

Her too adamant protestation didn't stop her sister. "Leave the bag, look me in the eyes and say it."

"Say what?"

"Say that you don't."

"I don't." Olivia could feel her cheeks going hotter by the minute. "I don't have a boyfriend. Where would I find time to have a life for god's sake! Now would you stop already?"

"Do I know him?"

"Rach!" Olivia moaned. "Please…"

"Oh oh. Peter? Is it Peter?" Rachel took a step back to check her sister's reaction. "Liv, I'm so happy for you! You're so meant for each other."

"No we're not…" Olivia said sheepishly. "Now would you stop?"

"Sooo, tell me everything! What are your plans for Sunday?"

"Sunday?" How did she possibly know about her date?

"Because Sunday is Valentine's day, dummy!" Rachel shouted triumphantly.


End file.
